


queasy

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Copious Use of the Word “Gonna”, Developing Relationship, Garrison AU, M/M, Motion Sickness, POV Alternating, Vomiting, flight, lots and lots of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith combats chronic motion sickness whilst flying. Shiro’s with him every step of the way.





	queasy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this on a turbulent plane ride, and finished it whilst recovering from jet lag. Motion sickness is real and it Sucks. Currently watching Voltron and they are in love. It is so written. There are so many good sheith fics and fanart. Wow. Keep doing what you’re doing, sheith fans.

This time, Shiro remembers his bags.

Keith’s gotten better at hitching them to his belt loop before every flight, but that morning, he’d overslept, denying himself the luxury of assembling his precautions.

His and Shiro’s shared breakfast smoothie burns up his throat. Opening one bag wide, Shiro thrusts it into Keith’s lap at the exact moment he vomits through the insulated flap.

“I’m so tired, Shiro,” he says, sweat skirting his forehead.

Parting dark bangs through prosthetic fingers, Shiro sighs against Keith’s jawbone.

“I know.”

Keith grits his teeth, sitting back to monitor the control panel.

They’re preparing for an eventual launch back into the stars, his home. _Their_ home. Flying through Earth’s turbulent clouds exacerbates his stomach’s sensitive rotations. He swallows residual acid, focusing on Shiro’s flexing prosthetic.

“Tell me a story I’ve heard before,” he says. “Go off on a tangent, Shiro. I’m game for any digression.”

From the corner of his eye, he senses Shiro’s laughter, tension unraveling from his hunched shoulders.

“Well, I’m working myself up to asking this great guy out.”

Keith’s entire body shudders through a violent vibration. His clutch trembles on the control panel; sweat cloaks his palms, funneling between clenched fingers.

He says, “Already getting bad vibes, big guy.”

His voice sounds unnatural, tunneling outward aways off.

Shiro’s gaze darkens.

“I’m pretty tolerant overall, but I can’t sanction you trash-talking my starlight.”

Scowling, Keith issues two words from the side of his mouth, eyes on vengeful stormclouds: “Try me.”

_What does that make me, then? Your meteorite? Answer me, Shiro!_

All at once, Shiro kneads his prosthetic into Keith’s shoulder.

“I’m serious. Not another word.”

Breathing into the addictive sensation, Keith blinks.

“Hey, serious? I’m gonna hurl again.”

Emptying the first insulated bag of its contents into the resident garbage receptacle, Shiro nudges the metal bin out of sight before unfolding a new bag from his belt loop, adjusting its placement under Keith’s chin.

In the process of scrubbing crusts of vomit from Keith’s lips (he’d cooked them a generous supper the night before), Shiro’s gaze locks on the communication indicator from their flight’s supervisor. He sighs.

Keith hesitates for one minute before enabling the speaker function.

“ _You’re done for today_.”

It’s a familiar sequence of words they’ve heard from the same disaffected voice ever since they began sharing flights.

His breath slowing to a meditative hum, Shiro holds Keith’s bag close to his chest, shutting his eyes.

Keith says, “That’s a strange way to give me clearance, but I’ll take it.”

“Not the time to mouth off, Kogane.”

His lips quirked in a smirk, Keith leans in to Shiro’s broadening touch, his fingertips scaling the back of Keith’s neck.

“Mind your own mouth, Control.”

“Yeah, yeah; your gut’s gonna dictate your flight pattern again. Stinks you into gagging enough in that piece of junk as is. Now cut the shit and prepare to land.”

With a devastating rapidity, Keith claws at the control panel, launching their aircraft into a nosedive.

Over the shrill rumble of motors whirring, Shiro says, “Am I gonna need to ask you out in heaven?”

“ _What?_ ”

Throttling Keith’s gloved wrist, Shiro tests the limits of his vocal chords: “ _Can I kiss you when we land?”_

Tears scramble from Keith’s eyes as his arms swerve and with it the aircraft, flatlining into a stunning plateau.

 _“_ For god’s sake, Shiro,” he says, shaking, “you smuggled my heart from the stars.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project (including the LLF Comment Builder), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction  
> This author replies to comments.


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